


Love and Consequence Through the Eyes of the Gentry

by yourecool



Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Genre: Artistic License, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Changelings, Fae Deals, Fairies, Fatal Injuries, Gen, Human OCs - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Stolen away, The Gentry - Freeform, The Rules, fairy ocs - Freeform, i could also say..., i-i, imbalanced deals, not entirely accurate though, that's a thing i could say, the Fair Folk, with, with celtic folklore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 06:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21031508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourecool/pseuds/yourecool
Summary: They say It’s a bad idea for a human to fall in love with one of the Gentry. The Fair Folk experience love differently than humans do, and there is always a price, a hidden consequence of shared affections, that few people are willing or able to pay. But it goes both ways. What is the cost of love for the Gentry?





	1. Cherish

**Author's Note:**

> Thingy I’m working on

Clover found the human child sitting abandoned in the darkened street, shivering and filthy. The asphalt was wet, and the air was clean; it had just stopped raining. The street lights and their lengthened reflections in the puddles on the ground sent strange shadows across the child's face. It was midnight, the witching hour, and the child had been waiting alone in the dead of night and it's oppressive, heavy silence, right where her parents had left her six hours ago with the promise that they would come back for her soon. The only sound to be heard were the girl's quiet, frightened sobs.

Clover had been pleased as punch. They took the girl back with them elsewhere, and gave her the name Cherish. They kept her True Name under lock and key for a rainy day.

Cherish was already eleven when Clover stole her away, long past the age at which children are meant to be taken. But when she had just been left out there for anyone to steal away with, Clover reasoned, how could they have refused? They hadn’t even needed to leave a changeling child in exchange, the human parents had completely revoked their claim to the girl. Clover couldn’t just let a perfectly good child go to waste! 

Cherish was eleven, and old enough to pick up on subtle queues. She recognized a pattern in Clover's behavior and mannerisms, the phrases they used to refer to her. She understood subconsciously that she was just an interesting toy to them, but they were so much nicer to her than her parents used to be, and they spent time with her, and she was happy. But it wasn't enough. There was something, an emptiness, a strange desperate fear that nagged at her during quiet moments. Cherish did her best to ignore it, and tried to be grateful that Clover had taken her at all.

Clover was unfathomably old, had more names-both True and not- than she could count, and to them, humans were a fleeting, tiny thing. Not even they could tell you what changed between them and Cherish, what happened to make the attachment form, become more than a passing fancy. But the thought of using Cherish's name selfishly begun to taste rotten. Every second more that Cherish aged, something almost like fear tightened around whatever their version of a heart was. They grew clingy, reluctant to leave Cherish even when she was doing boring human things like sleeping, started dreading the future instead of living from moment to moment, a completely alien concept to faeries. Clover was experiencing a feeling almost unrecognizable as love.

But as Cherish aged, however slowly, the empty ache in her chest grew more prominent. She expected Clover to leave her any minute, struggled with anger and resentment mixed with desperate longing, distanced herself from Clover out of a fear that Clover was distancing herself from her. She had nothing to fall back on, no one else to talk to, no frame of reference or context for the way she was feeling and how to deal with it, because her only (foggy) memories from before were of the eleven years she spent with her abusive parents, and Clover didn't know anything about humans. The Gentry don't need companionship and social interaction the way humans do.

The problem was, Clover took her for the exact same reason the Gentry always steal away the things that catch their fancy. The problem was, Cherish was old enough to recognize that. The problem was, Cherish had already been tossed aside once.

The problem was, although Clover at first only viewed Cherish as an interesting trinket, they eventually grew to genuinely care for her, to love her not as one might a pet or toy but rather as one would love a daughter. The problem was that Cherish couldn’t quite believe that. 

The problem was that the damage had already been dealt, that Cherish was hurting and Clover didn’t know how to reach her. The problem was that Clover wasn’t human, and their mind didn’t work like a human’s, and Cherish was human, and her mind did. 

The problem was that Clover loved Cherish too much, too late.


	2. Lael and Angeline (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two friends have a falling out.

They were childhood friends. They went to the same elementary school, middle school, and high school. They planned to go to the same University. You choose the school Lael said. I’ll help you with the research on different schools if you need it, but you can decide, I don’t care which as long as I’m with you. She gave an easy smile that Angeline couldn’t help but return. Lael’s smiles were infectious to her.

So Angeline was surprised by her friend’s reaction when she added Elsewhere University to the list.

I heard that the area was dangerous, Lael fretted, completely at odds with her relaxed attitude earlier. That people go missing, constantly. I don’t think this is a good idea, Angeline. Are you sure you want to apply there? 

They havegood benefits! Angeline replied, trying to ease her friend’s fears. She reassured Lael, It’ll be fine.

A month into college and Angeline understood Lael’s hesitation. She couldn’t...she didn’t know how... she wasn’t prepared to deal with this. The reality of the Gentry, and the crows, and the strange fog over the pool and the baying of the hounds at night. The complicated rules put into place for the student’s protection. It’s terrifying and confusing to her, and she grows to view the fae as wicked creatures, akin to demons. Treacherous, although they cannot lie. She calls herself Rose and Lael goes by Ferret and they refer to each other by their true name only in the privacy of their shared dorm.

Three months in, and she starts to notice something off about Lael. Things that she had simply brushed off before Elsewhere, now viewed in a new light—Lael was allergic to Iron, disliked salt. She was on a meal plan Angeline didn’t know the specifics of, which she was vague about explaining when asked. The other students acted wary around her, threw strange looks her way as she walked through the hallways.

Sometimes when Angeline looked at Lael out of the corner of her eye, she could briefly catch a golden light, sense the movement of a faint outline, the barest impression of a tail swishing back and forth on the edge of her vision before it wasn’t there anymore, maybe never was.

Angeline is terrified.

Angeline finds out the truth five months in. Lael is a changeling- switched as a baby with the human child her mother birthed, she was raised human her whole life, although the knowledge of her heritage and what she truly was never left her. She was a changeling for as long as Angeline has known her, from their first meeting at age five to their arrival at together at Elsewhere. It wasn’t until the University that her fae nature was made known to Angeline, but she was a changeling long before they arrived together at Elsewhere.  


When Angeline confronts her Lael steels herself, tries to keep calm, tries to pull herself together and explain. This is her worst nightmare taken form but Angeline is her friend. She deserves to know, Lael tells herself, she won’t hurt you, she’s your friend. Her tail slips out in full form, a long ribbon of golden fire lashing back and forth out of distress. Angeline screams and stumbles back at the sight of it, and the horror on her face drives a knife into Lael's chest.

Liar, Angeline hisses in response to Lael’s stuttered explanations, where is the real Lael? Where is my friend? A lump forms in Lael’s throat, but she swallows down the broken glass hurt she feels. I am your friend, she says, I am Lael. You know me. I may be of the Gentry but I am still your friend, who you have known your whole life. I am not lying, I cannot lie, please, Angeline, and Angeline hears her and knows deep inside that she is telling the truth, and Lael sees that recognition in her eyes and feels a flutter of hope, but Angeline’s face twists and she cannot accept it. The fae are wicked creatures, akin to demons. Treacherous, although they cannot lie. But Lael is her friend. Angeline is terrified.

Lael doesn't want to do this right now, doesn't want to do this ever. Trying to explain, trying to justify is exhausting and scary and tedious and she doesn't want to be walking on eggshells around her friend, she doesn't want to have to face the look of distrust on Angeline's face. Lael desperately wants to curl up in bed and sleep for a couple thousand years, wake up to the remains of the bed and the dorm and the university rotted and decayed all around her so she doesn't have to deal with this. She wants to run away. But Angeline would be long dead, that far into the future, and Lael would be missing her best friend. So she stays.

She stands there, and she takes the accusations and tears and insults Angeline spits at her, and it feels like rubbing salt and iron into an open wound, but she refuses to let herself cry.

Their relationship only goes downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an experimental writing style I’m using here. Lemme know if you have any issues with it. All criticisms welcome!


	3. Imbalanced deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a bit more positive than the other two.

This isn’t enough, you realize, clutching the childhood doll Elm gave you in exchange with a shaking hand.   
It has worth, it holds within it an imprint of every one of his childhood memories and experiences, the whispered secrets he shared with it in the privacy of his room. It’s extremely valuable, but it’s not enough for this. You can’t make this deal.

“Elm, is there nothing else you can give?” You ask. You are too busy panicking to worry about pitching your voice correctly, so your tone is even. That turns out to be a blessing, because Elm calms down upon hearing your question, asked in a level voice. “That’s all I have, I’m afraid.” He says, hoarsely. Coughs, and blood splatters down his chin. “It’s ok if it’s too much.”

You don’t correct him.

All he has. You can’t make this deal. You have to make this deal.   
You crouch down, grasp Elm’s limp hand in your own, and shake it, sealing the pact.

**Don’t.**

Ancient instinct comes awake, its warning heavy on your mind. More a feeling than a thought, it reverberates throughout your entire being. It is an instinct older than this planet you and Elm stand on. It is older than you, older even than the queen who rules you, and its command over you is far greater.

**Danger.**

It tells you, and for a moment you can’t move.

But his lifeblood is spilling out between your fingers—he won’t be conscious much longer.   
He’s dying. You need to do something now, and in the heat of the moment, this is all you can think to do, even if it goes against your very nature. 

Raising a trembling hand, you hesitate, for just a moment. 

You snap your fingers. 

A spell is cast. Something inside you tears.

...For a second, nothing happens. 

Then the gaping hole in Elm’s chest begins shrinking under your stare, growing more and more minuscule until it finally vanishes altogether. Just like that, the wound that almost stole your love away from you is gone.

You blink once, twice. Elm props himself up in his elbow, and places a hand on his chest, over where the injury used to be. When his fingers come away dry and bloodless, he grins, and turns to you excitedly. Then his eyes meet yours, and the smile falls from his face. 

There is a high pitched ringing in your ears. Then your ears vanish, and the sound gets trapped in your head, and you blink again. You attempt to will your ears back into form. For some reason, it’s more difficult than usual; keeping a grasp on your form feels like trying to hold water within cupped human hands. You have no idea what you look like; distantly, you worry that your appearance is scaring Elm.

Someone is clutching your...face? Shoulders? Neck? Arms? Shaking you back and forth. You look up at them. You don’t have eyes; you form eyes and look at them. It’s Elm. They’re crouched down in front of you, they’re saying something, in a human language. You’d know how to speak it if you could focus. They’re not smiling; their brows are furrowed, eyes wide. Humans smile when they’re happy. Why isn’t Elm happy? You want them- you want him to be happy. You try to figure out what expression he’s making, are they sad? Angry? But your vision spazzes and you briefly see into five dimensions at once and then you lose your eyes again.

You feel strange, off kilter. Something inside you is missing. What’s missing? What did this cost you? What did you lose?

You try to understand what the human is telling you. It’s speaking...English, you remember. With some effort, you recall English. “—did you do? You’re hurt, you’re bleeding, there is ichor coming out of your mouth and nose and ears- oh god- Sapphire? What did you do? Sapphire?”

Why is Elms voice coming out of the humans mouth? You wonder. Oh that’s right, Elm is human. You forgot. Something inside you settles at the sound of his voice and you relax. You’re tired, so you let go of your understanding of language and just listen to Elm speak, let it all be comforting gibberish to you. You try to gather your thoughts, and find it a bit easier than before. I made an unbalanced deal, that’s right you think. I made an unbalanced deal, and now a piece of me is missing, and this scar will not heal. It will stay with me for however many eons I live until like all things do, I come to an end. And what did I get in return? A couple more years with this human whose life is so fleeting anyways, who will be gone before I can blink? 

...Who makes every moment I spend with him so much brighter?

You were happy before you met Elm. You were happy back elsewhere, when your deals bore fruit and you were able to outwit your enemies with ease. Then you were happy exploring the earth. This world is such an interesting place, and there was entertainment to be found in even simple things. 

But that joy you felt back then is all just the same, shallow, surface level happiness to you now. You’ve never felt joy as fully, deeply as the unsea, as you do just watching Elm light up upon seeing you. You smile with whatever you currently have as a face, and reach out with what approximates for arms, and you wrap them around Elm and hug him.

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was gonna have this be about a fairy trying to make a deal with a human they loved to save the human, but the human didn’t have anything to give in return so the fairy had to watch them die. Then I decided this was more interesting, and also had a more hopeful ending.


	4. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a rewrite of an old submission I made to the Elsewhere tumblr

Elsewhere University has a program dedicated to helping the people that randomly appear on campus, dropped off there by a fairy after they’ve outgrown their appeal. People who were Taken. Those who were raised among the gentry often develop learned behaviors that make readjusting to human society a challenge. The Returns program was created to help them readjust to humanity, to recover from eons spent unchanging. However, not all of the people taken as children are returned.

Once, Snapdragon had approached you with a question and without any payment. You loved Snapdragon, so were willing to let the lack of payment slide, but you still ribbed your beloved a little for not bringing anything to trade before you heard the inquiry. Even if a deal wasn’t needed for this, you both knew the rules were important. The teasing could be Snapdragon’s price.

Snapdragon wanted to know if you remembered a time before the court. You had laughed at that. You couldn’t help but laugh at such a hilarious joke. “There’s never been a  _ before _ the court.” You answered through snickers. Your laughter was contagious, and before long Snapdragon had joined in, adding a loud hyena laugh your fits of giggling. If you could, you’d have been a hyena also. The joke warranted it. It was a very funny joke.

Snapdragon is Frostbite now, and today you’re going to be Bluejay. You don’t remember Frostbite’s joke, but if someone were to ask you that question now, your answer would be the same. For you, there was no before elsewhere. Elsewhere is all you know. There has only ever been Elsewhere, and Frostbite, and the Court, (and the Queen no don't think about the Queen). But, though you don’t even remember that you remember, a before does exist for you.

You still sleep on occasion. Sometimes you even dream, and very rarely, during a period of dreaming, faint memories will teeter on the delicate edge of your recollection. A woman and a man, dressed in skins, huge and safe. You remember an embrace, a smile, rough hair tickling your cheek. The taste of warm milk and the taste of cake. The vague idea of staticky music playing on a radio. An embrace, arms wrapped around you, comfortable and warm. 

You don’t remember much. You don’t try to. It’s a defense mechanism, your brain’s way of protecting you from far too many years of being alive. You only remember what you need to remember— everything you have to know in order to survive, very little besides that. At this point it’s half instinct, a feeling you can barely put into words. Memory is not as important to you as the nameless sense you’ve developed, the ability to feel the Truth of Things, to See their shape. You remember your True Name, and you remember not to give it to anyone. You can Hear the humming buzz of power a True Name resonates, Feel its weight in your mind when you think it, on your tongue when you say it, on your shoulders when Frostbite says yours, See the heavy chain of it. You remember the rules (the rules are important, searingly hot and impossibly large and oddly distant), and Frostbite(a cool, playful, breeze), and every single deal you’ve ever made and who you made it with. The balance of them stays with you, steadies you, empowers you. They leave a curling warmth of satisfaction in your stomach. You remember your enemies and how they wronged you, unfair deals that left you unbalanced and nauseous, but you don’t remember yesterday. You barely remember your life before today, and you’ll forget today as soon as tomorrow comes.

Frostbite has kept you for a long time, because Frostbite loves you, genuinely and truly, and more than anything else in the world. You love Frostbite just as much. Long ago you trusted Frostbite with your true name, and though you gave it freely you were given Frostbite’s True Name in return. You never once considered that Frostbite could betray you, and Frostbite never has. Having the other’s trust is more valuable to the both of you than any treasure or knowledge or name in the world.

Frostbite is unspeakably ancient—far older than you are. Slowly as you age in the Elsewhere, Frostbite existed for a long time before you, and will exist for a long time after you. When Frostbite first found you, Frostbite was Blackberry, and Blackberry didn’t love you. When you were Cinnamon and Blackberry was Stingdagger, you loved her, and something happened, and Stingdagger fell in love with you. Those memories are still clear in your mind. You keep them close to your heart. 

You don’t know this, but Stingdagger had fought the feeling at first, knowing outliving you would hurt. Frostbite dreads it now, and loves you now, and has brought a gift for you that you will love and that will become the only thing you remember from today, because you are aging and Frostbite’s time with you is growing shorter, and unlike you she remembers what day it is today.

Though you don’t know it, today is your birthday. You are turning one thousand, two hundred, and eighty five years old.

You don’t look a day over twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more ideas:  
a fairy and another fairy falling in genuine love?  
A fairy falling in love with someone who the queen also fancies  
A fairy watching a human lover die of old age  
A fairy who’s lover is upset upon finding they weren’t the only one, the fairy had lovers in the past.  
Unrequited loveee  
Love triangles and or polyamory  
Confusion about human social constructs like heteronormativity and marriage


End file.
